


Bound & Determined

by Barb Cummings (Rahirah)



Series: The Barbverse [40]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 23:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahirah/pseuds/Barb%20Cummings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Our Heroes go shopping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound & Determined

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the same universe as _A Raising in the Sun_, _Necessary Evils_, et. al. (See the [Barbverse Timeline](http://sleepingjaguars.com/buffy/viewpage.php?page=timeline) for specifics.) It contains spoilers for previous works in the series. Written with apologies to _The Lost Boys,_ without which you have seen it, the punchline will not be nearly as funny. This story was written for the Kink Prompt Ficletathon, and uses the prompt BDSM.

Ronnie could always tell first-timers, but the cute little blonde in the Donna Ricco chiffon was a gimme. A furious blush lit her cheeks as she skittered past the rack of XXX birthday cards, and her eyes remained firmly bolted to the carpet every time another customer got within five feet of her. The I'm-not-really-here hunch of her shoulders as she sidled up to the edible undies was classic. She was somebody's GGG girlfriend, lured in on the assurance that Lancelot's Castle was just like a department store, really, that it was clean and well-lit and there were no pervy guys jerking off in the peep-show booths in the back. Kink was in. You could order butt plugs on Amazon.com, for crying out loud.

As always, Ronnie kept it casual. Never head for the girl, just angle for where she was going. They might start out on the tame side of the store, but their eyes always gave them away: Furtive glances past racks of frilly lingere and candy-colored dildos to thigh boots and bustiers, all the way to the seductive gleam of black leather and steel in the very, very back. She might be fingering a red silk teddy now, but it was whips and chains that made her breath come faster. She just didn't know it yet.

It took a good fifteen minutes for Blondie to work her way to the back of the store, her Fossil cargo clutch a shield in front of her pert little breasts. She stood staring up at the display of leather and studs, leashes and harnesses, her Raspberry Ice lips parted and her grey-green eyes as wide as teacups. She'd just worked up the nerve to slide a hand down one of the leashes (sturdy black nylon, patented EZ-Clip fastener, collar sold separately) when Ronnie materialized from behind the ball gags. "Hi there. Anything I can help you with?"

The girl dropped the leash like Indy realizing that it _was_ a snake. "No! I mean, I'm not buying anything! I'm just waiting for somebody." Her gaze flicked to the lapel of his blazer and back, noting the lack of nametag. "Do you work here?"

Ronnie turned up the charming and inoffensive a notch. This next part was the make or break. "No, no, it's just that I remember how confusing all this can be for a first-time buyer. You get all excited and end up with a complete set of dungeon gear that you have no place to store, and..." The girl's eyes were approaching wading pool size now. He spread his hands with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Been there and had to eBay that. My advice is always to start small."

The corner of the girl's mouth twitched, and for a second the glint in her eye transmuted from suspicion to mischief. "Not really in the market for a complete set of dungeon gear," she said. She extended a hand. "Buffy."

_Score_. "I'm Ronnie Horton. With the Sunnydale Power Exchange." He produced a card. "Maybe you've heard of us. We have monthly meetings in members' homes, very private, very educational. We're an organization devoted to personal fulfillment via the structured modulation of interpersonal dynamics - "

"That so?" a male voice drawled. Its owner swung around the corner of the display - spiky bleach-tipped hair, ripped jeans, leather vest... and the body to carry it all off, dammit. The boyfriend, obviously. The Boyfriend hooked both thumbs in his belt and cocked his head at Ronnie with lazy, half-amused insolence. "Me, I just fancy being chained down and fucked raw."

"Spike," Buffy said reprovingly. "This is Ronnie. From the Sunnydale Power Exchange. Ronnie, this is Spike."

Spike (God, what a poser. Seriously, who called themselves Spike?) regarded Ronnie with unnerving interest, muttering something that sounded like, "Alice, pudding, pudding, Alice," under his breath. The man had unnaturally sharp canines. Ronnie took an entirely involuntary step backwards.

Buffy's eyes narrowed, and there was a practiced whip-crack in her voice. "_Spike._ Play nice."

She might as well have jerked him up short with the EZ-Clip. "Sorry, love," Spike said meekly. He held up a set of manacles. "Will these do?"

"Let's find out." Buffy clipped one around Spike's wrist to test the fit. "Perfect." She threw Ronnie a blinding smile. "He broke the old ones. No big loss. They got rust stains all over the sheets anyway. Thanks for the invitation, but I think I'm exchanging all the power I can handle already."

As they headed off towards the register, Ronnie heard Buffy whisper, "If you don't behave yourself, I _will_ buy you that collar!" and Spike's rumbling laugh. "Promises, pet, promises!" He sighed. Back to the drawing board. What did that make his talley for the night so far? Three vampires, two half-demons, and whatever the heck Buffy was? He was never going to get a date.

That was the only trouble with the scene in Sunnydale. Too damn many vampire fetishists.  


END 


End file.
